When He Gets Angry
by Lypreila
Summary: What happens when Fenris, after leaving Hawke, witnesses her get injured because she was watching him? He gets angry. And you wouldn't like Fenris when he's angry. Mage!FHawke/Fenris , Oneshot.


**Big old A/N.**

 **So one day I was wondering what would happen if, after Fenris left her, Hawke got really hurt in front of him. Not whumped or anything, just a bad ouchie. I figured, he'd get really, really pissed off. So, here it is. Trigger warnings for arson, I guess? Also apologies for grammatical incorrectness. I'm dyslexic, it happens. ^_^**

When He Gets Angry

She stares at it often, that bit of ribbon tied around his wrist. When walking, while playing Wicked Grace (causing her to loose, much to Varric's crowing pleasure and delight), even one time in combat. That didn't end well.

She had caught the flash of crimson as his sword had flicked away a dagger wielding Carta thug, whose daggers happened to be heading towards her exposed back. After that she could see little else, trusting to her companions to get out of the path of her spells. He was beautiful to watch in a fight, all silent fury. He would phase through them, swinging his sword as though it weighed nothing. Hawke herself knew that it weighed nearly as much as her.

" _Hmm...maybe that's how he could pick me up so easily..."_

The thought was unwelcome so she increased the tempo of her deadly dance, sliding through the crowd with what seemed like effortless grace. She was at Merrill's side, thunking her staff over the head of a bow wielding elf, then she pirouetted away, throwing a fireball at the warrior rushing her with his shield. A delighted laugh left her as she watched him stumble, trying to put the flames out. But always, always a large part of her attention was on _him_ , especially on that silly ribbon looped around his gauntlet.

It happened shortly after she nearly stuck Aveline's foot with a spear of ice meant for the staff wielding mage to her left. She realized what she had done once Aveline's shocked exclamation had drawn her whole attention. That was why, she would think later, she hadn't sensed her barrier flicker out, hadn't heard the victorious shout of the (no longer quite so on fire) warrior who'd returned - only to see the perfect opening for his revenge strike. She had been watching, and thinking of him.

The sword sliced along her side, feeling like a searing flame as it cut through her robe and her skin. Turning, falling, she threw a last spell, freezing the warrior and his two remaining companions in place. In the eternity it took her to fall she heard a shattering noise, followed by curses in several languages. Then strong arms were around her and Fenris was screaming at Varric, at Aveline, at Merrill to do something, anything. The last thing she heard was Merrill's squeaky voice protesting that she knew no healing spells.

Hours later she fought her way back to consciousness to find Varric sitting by her bed, reading to her from one of his works in progress. Her side was sore, oh Maker it _hurt_. Her voice was rough when she spoke, her throat dry.

"How's Hard in Hightown coming along?"

Varric raised an eyebrow at her, setting the book into his lap.

"Have I ever told you that you're an idiot Hawke?"

"Yes, you do so on a regular basis. But you can do it again if it'll make you feel better. I think it's good for you to try and take me down a peg or two. Won't work, but hey, it's worth a shot. So who stitched me up?"

Varric let a slow grin spread across his face. He couldn't resist her when she was like this, smiling and tossing off jokes at her own expense mere hours after being nearly gutted like a fish.

"Hawke" he said, rearranging his face into some semblance of a scolding frown.

"Yes Varric?" Her face was a study in innocence.

"You're a stone cursed idiot."

A delighted grin lit her face, and, pointedly ignoring the sharp pain in her side, she wiggled herself into a sitting position.

"Oooohhhh! A stone cursed idiot, that must've really made you feel better! But you didn't answer, who got to practice their needlework on me this time?"

"I'll have you know that calling you an idiot is one of the highlights my day" Varric responded primly. "But as to who patched you up, well, Aveline dumped two elfroot potions down your throat, then Broody ran all the way to Darktown with you. I've never seen anyone run so fast, he was a screaming silvery blur."

Hawke was silent at that. Varric, however, wasn't going to let her off that easily. He wouldn't stop till she knew what the elf had done for her, and what he, in his anger, was doing right now. He could see out the window of Hawkes room, across the low roofs to Fenris' mansion, but he didn't draw her attention to it yet.

"He went to Blondie for you, you know. Ghosted in there, set you down, then grabbed Anders and sat him right down next to you. Actually _touched_ him, Hawke. Because Broody thought he might be too late. Anders told me all about it afterwards. He stayed there with you too, stayed in that dank hole with the mage he hates till you were stable enough to be moved home. Then he carried you all the way here.

An interminable silence stretched, Hawke looking at her hands clenching the blanket. At last she spoke with a small voice, so unlike her usual laughing tones that Varric had to smile sadly.

"Is he still here? I'd like to thank him."

Shaking his head slowly, Varric lifted a finger to point out the window. Hawke's eyes followed, though she didn't really want to see the solitary window that would be lit at the mansion that Fenris squatted in. Instead her startled gaze beheld something else entirely. The windows of the top floor, the only floor she could see, were stained with flickering orange light. Every so often a flash of silvery blue would light one of them up. Smoke was pouring from both chimneys, far too much to have come from a small fireplace fire.

They watched for another thirty minutes, till the bluish flashes stopped. Ten minutes after that flames burst through the upstairs windows in succession, licking upwards with renewed vigor till the eaves too were ablaze. Hawke sighed, a sound seeming to carry all the weight of the world in it. Varric, mistaking her concern, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"He got out. Don't worry."

"I know. That's not it."

They continued to watch in silence the destruction of the once grand mansion. She hated it when Fenris got angry, and she had a feeling that this was one of the two worst types of anger; anger at her, or worse, at himself. Another sigh fell to fill the silence. All this because she couldn't stop staring at the favor he wore, the little ribbon that kept her hope alive.

"Varric?"

"Yes Hawke?"

"This is one hell of a mess, isn't it."

It was a statement, not a question, and the dwarf squeezed her thin shoulder in sympathy.

"Yeah, yeah it really is."


End file.
